The children of Agni
Still tend to the fields
But they yield to what Shiva’s
Deals hope to conceal
By the bushels of bullets, pork barrels of grease
In the crease of the fingers
And trigger’s release
Of the anger, the rage of this Bengali cage
Made of famines of war
And the textile slaves
With the wage loomin’ over
Their shoulders in pain
From the Kashmiri soldiers
Still diggin’ their graves
And in chains are the children who bear the unfair distribution of loot
Still polluting the air
And I try and I try, and they stare and they stare
But I’m running in circles and getting nowhere

Just making a stand for this Hindustan sand
A mere man of unplanned patrilineal clans
Tryna’ offer a hand to the paving of roads
Without hellish intentions for humble abodes
‘Cuz I know, I’ve been shown where the wild things are
And now my state of mind is the state of Uttar
When I still see the zamindars driving in cars
And the Amritsar crimson Blue Stars from afar
People burning but still full of love and a spirit
That sings of the Ganges, each night you can hear it
It’s clear, without fear and sincere in its praise
For the guru I am, come to learn of their ways